


I'll go anywhere to leave you but come with me

by liketheysay



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #ItsStillBeautiful, Angst, Cuba, Drunk Dancing, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheysay/pseuds/liketheysay
Summary: Two years after defeating the Dragon, Hannibal and Will settle into their new lives in Cuba. They pass the time by walking to the pier and picking apart each other's minds. All is well until Hannibal runs into an unexpected guest at the market.Walking to the water’s edge was like a ritual for them— like Sunday morning church with a cannibal by your side. Here they could look out at the water, see how it collided with the curve of the Earth, and confess to unspoken thoughts otherwise too difficult to admit face to face. Here, side by side, they could pretend they were alone in the world, glancing at each other’s reflection to feel safe. They atoned for personal sins, tossing quiet words of love and forgiveness into the open air. The water was where they were born, reborn. It would forever be a sacred home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from a poem by Brenda Shaughnessy called 'Drift.' Chapter 2 should be up within the next few days. Happy reading!

_“Will,”_

He was sleeping, or at least something that felt a lot like sleep. He dreamt he and Molly were out on the frozen lake hoping for a good fish or two. It would be a cold walk back, but he could feel the warmth of the fire at the mere thought of home. Dinner would be served late tonight. The fish need to be cleaned and prepared. Walter will be hungry...

“Will, wake up. Try to open your eyes,”

He did as he was told, but it didn’t feel like being awake. Everything was blurred, a dark tangle of wet air and blood. Hannibal was leaning over him, very close— too close. When Will finally came to he tried casually backing away from the man above him, closing him in, touching his face with quick, deliberate force. But as he moved he felt a sharp pain race through his body, from his toes to the soft flesh of the inner cheek. Everything was on fire. 

“Will, I know you’re in pain. But we have to move,”

That didn’t feel like an option. Just as soon as Will garnered enough energy to speak, Hannibal had him on his feet with one swift heft. Will groaned— the shock of standing upright staggered him. He could feel the burgeoning rush of blood filling his body again, out to his arms, swelling to the bottom of his feet. He felt incredibly heavy. Hannibal held onto him and began to walk, initially taking uneven steps but soon finding a rhythm.

Will was still trying to put everything together. What happened, what went wrong? Here he was holding onto Hannibal with all the strength he had and forced himself to push forward, keep moving, keep walking. How did he get here?

He looked up at the night sky and nearly fainted again at the sudden dizziness of losing sight of the earth beneath him. He held onto Hannibal tighter and kept his eyes up, tracing the cliff’s dark edges— he remembered. The blood, the Dragon, the fall.

When Will fell he remembered seeing the night sky in the black water beneath him, like an oil painting. All dark hues and broad strokes of purple and blue. He imagined Hannibal could see it, too. They were two heads facing either direction, a human palindrome falling to the same depths.

How simple it all seemed then, head to Hannibal’s chest, feeling the slow, languid thud against his cheek— a sickening rhythm that whispered murder in Will’s ear. Will took the advice and jumped. Well, it was not so much a jump as it was a stagger, a mutual sway to the cliff’s edge. As if a sudden wind had coaxed an oak tree to uproot itself and drop.

Will returned his gaze to the sand in front of him. That familiar metallic taste filled his mouth, dominating his senses. It throbbed in his ears. _Keep walking, keep walking._

Slowly, they made the terribly challenging hike down the coast until reaching another of Hannibal’s safe houses. Will didn’t question it. If he was to be pulled into the safety Hannibal provided, if this is the life he was given, so be it. There they cleaned and bandaged wounds, ate what Hannibal had left in the cupboards, and slept for an indeterminable amount of time. The idea of being followed was far behind them despite the impending necessity of an escape plan.

After what felt like days, flitting between consciousness and sleep, they managed to buy a rusted boat from a private seller with cash. Will did what he could to repair the leaky floorboards and corroded machinery but he remained distractingly sore. Slowly, they made their way down the Atlantic Ocean, stopping at the smaller islands as needed to restock on fuel and canned goods.

Living quarters were close on the boat, but not unmanageable. Both men suffered habitual drowsy spells and learned to detect when the other might need help dressing, bathing, or cooking. The time spent living within each other’s personal spaces did a great deal to teach the men about solidarity, compassion, and the unspoken loyalty they now shared.

Initially, Hannibal and Will had been relatively silent around each other after the fall. It seemed as if there was nothing left to say after having shared such a raw, indescribable moment together. Like the wind had been knocked out of both of them and they needed time to gather enough energy to speak again. They learned to communicate through these silences, and grew fonder of the other as a result.

~~~

Hannibal and Will settled into a comfortable routine after arriving in Cuba. They had each grown out their hair— Will’s evolving into a giant mess of unbound curls— and let their stubble grow out into full beards. Hannibal had let his beard grow freely during their jaunt to the Caribbean, but now that they made a place for themselves in their new lives, he kept it neatly trimmed. Either way, Will found himself staring quite often at the greyish tint that flourished in his hair, sparkling when the sun caught it just right.

They bought a small brick house far off from the busy streets and markets of Havana. With Hannibal’s mysteriously abundant allowance, they could have bought a much grander dwelling near the water but decided it safer to lie low. Will didn’t ask how much Hannibal actually had saved up. As long as it kept them comfortable— and anonymous.

The modest house was pre-furnished with floral patterned sofas, tiled stairs, a charming stove with a brick chimney, and various pots and pans. Hannibal would have preferred to buy his own utensils for the kitchen, but what are you going to do when hiding from the FBI? Deal with what you’re given. And so they did.

The house had one bathroom, two bedrooms, a kitchen with a small dining area off to the side, and a bright living space decorated with tall windows. The second bedroom was there mainly as a precaution. Hannibal certainly didn’t want to falsely assume the state of his and Will’s relationship, despite the tropical geography suggesting something similar to elopers on honeymoon. Hannibal kept his mouth shut.

One morning, Will woke particularly early— too early to rise and properly greet the day. After connecting the cracks of his bedroom ceiling into make believe constellations and creating a to-do list for the day, he had just about run out of early morning lying-in-bed activities. He let his mind wander to Hannibal— what truly must have happened for the two of them to live together like this now? And why did it feel so right? In Baltimore, the conversations they shared during therapy felt so effortless, like Will was practicing a speech in front of a mirror. A mirror that reflected the deepest inner workings of his mind, one that encouraged and craved.

Fully awake now, Will decided to see if Hannibal had started breakfast. No such luck. In fact, Hannibal’s bedroom door was still shut. Will walked over and went inside almost without thinking. Sure enough, Hannibal was still asleep— and snoring, at that. He looked and sounded like an actual human being, not a monster hiding under a carefully sewn human veil.

Will sat down on the bed next to him and brushed a stray hair off of Hannibal’s forehead. He stirred briefly, repositioning himself in his sleep. Will then took his thumb and forefinger to hold Hannibal’s nose shut. Hannibal struggled in his sleep, letting out two strangled breaths before suddenly grabbing Will’s wrist in a hard lock.

Will instantly let go but kept his arm in place, hovering above Hannibal’s throat. He saw the chilly alertness leave Hannibal’s eyes and watched them turn into something much softer.

“You’re awake,” Will said with an impish grin.

“I am now,” Hannibal replied.

“Did you know that you snore? It’s the most human thing about you, and admittedly kind of charming,”

Hannibal smiled, “You have an uncanny nose for trouble, did you know that Will?”

“I can’t take all the credit for that. You certainly haven’t done much to dissuade me,”

Will got up from the bed and stopped at the doorway, turning to face Hannibal again.

“I was thinking we could walk down to the pier after breakfast,”

“Sounds lovely, Will. Allow me to get dressed and then the day will truly begin,”

Walking to the water’s edge was like a ritual for them— like Sunday morning church with a cannibal by your side. Here they could look out at the water, see how it collided with the curve of the Earth, and confess to unspoken thoughts otherwise too difficult to admit face to face. Here, side by side, they could pretend they were alone in the world, glancing at each other’s reflection to feel safe. They atoned for personal sins, tossing quiet words of love and forgiveness into the open air. The water was where they were born, reborn. It would forever be a sacred home.

Today, Will felt slightly off somehow. After two years of living with Hannibal, they hadn’t once repeated the devastating revelation experienced on the cliff. On one hand, Will was grateful for the discovery he made about himself that night, but also terrified by what he might someday allow himself to do. There was a masked guilt lurking within him, waiting to be dug up and understood.

After breakfast, they walked to the pier and stood behind the concrete barrier alongside each other. The sun’s reflection off the water bounced up and blinded them.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” Will asked.

“You want me to tell the truth, I imagine,”

“That would be why I’m asking, yes,”

Hannibal looked out at the water, “I don’t regret a thing.”

This was all he ever wanted. It started on the cliff, feeling how close they were to perfection. Hannibal wanted to touch that moment again and again, relive it until it became ingrained in their bones, an epitaph carved deep, meaning, _We were here, we were one._

Life with Will now, though a touch too restrained for Hannibal’s liking, was worth more than he could care to explain. So they weren’t walking the streets arm in arm or murdering offending locals, but they were together. And they were learning— learning so much. About each other, about a life lived in tandem, about love.

“Sometimes, when I look back at everything we’ve gone through— separately, together— I get lost,” Will said, “I lose myself in those memories. I forget who we are, who I am,”

“And you don’t want to forget,”

“No. But I fear I might, and I don’t know where that would leave me…”

Hannibal thought for a moment.

“It's natural to fear oneself, what we might become if we let go of the reins,”

“By letting go of the reins I forfeit control,”

“Then you fear the body’s change, yourself inside it. Wicked as it may be. Perhaps a forfeit of self-control might work as a catalyst for your new self, leaving behind the shadows that have plagued you,”

Will looked off into the distance, “And walk into myself with grace,”

“If that’s how you see it,”

“I think that’s how you see it,”

They sat for a moment then, each considering their version of the past and future, how they intertwine and merge into a single thing.

“And what about you?” Will said, flustered suddenly, “Too perfect you don’t to need to go through any transformations?”

“I’m changing everyday,” Hannibal said. After all, he meant it. Will knew it, too.

It took a while for Will to finally accept what Hannibal advised two years ago on the night of the Dragon— to relax with himself, to learn how to just be here and nowhere else. To only exist in one moment and cherish whatever it means to live a life without worry. It couldn’t be that simple— could it?

~~~

After their morning walk to the water, Will decided to head back home and Hannibal stopped at the town market to pick up ingredients for a light lunch.

It was a hot day at the market, almost uncomfortably so. Hannibal watched with detached interest as the locals walked busily up and down the streets brushing shoulders, carrying baskets filled with breads, cassava flour, potatoes and herbs. Hannibal was used to blending in with the crowd and even mingled with the vendors bargaining for the fairest price. He had long since learned to work his natural charm to his advantage. 

Hannibal walked cheerfully through the crowded streets in search of a sack of dark coffee beans and a loaf of fresh bread to toast for lunch. Normally, Hannibal would walk leisurely amongst the rows of fruit displays and produce vendors, but this morning he was eager to return home. He was getting used to the idea of living a domestic life alongside Will, whom he had fought so hard for. It felt as if he could finally put aside the mind games that governed their previous life and live true to themselves at last. Quite a romantic thought, but an earnest one.

Hannibal had just finished buying the perfect baguette when he felt a curious presence watching him. It was in his nature to privately monitor the people and activities that surround him, especially now that he had every intention of remaining free and anonymous. He’d sooner kill every person in his path than see this life with Will taken away.

Hannibal cautiously turned to find a woman with thick blonde hair tied neatly into a knot standing across the street, blank and motionless. Her eyes startled him with their intensity. He knew that look to be one of absolute recognition, the cold stony glare of standing face to face with a ghost. There was an unmistakable aroma it carried— notes of citrus and sweat. No one in their right mind would stand and look that way without knowing who he was, what he was capable of.

He approached her, fully aware who she was.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Hannibal said. He held out a hand as greeting but was met with nothing but humid air.

Molly was silent for a moment, hardly believing what she was seeing. She had spent the last two years of her life forgetting the pain he had caused her, for tearing her life apart, for not even feeling remorse about any of it. It took her a moment to process any rational thoughts.

“You’re alive,” she whispered.

Hannibal looked down at himself briefly then returned to her gaze.

“It appears I am. So are you,” he smiled.

Standing in the hot Cuban sun Molly felt a shiver through her bones. She didn’t quite know how to play this game. 

“I make a point to avoid tabloids and rumors, especially after…” she paused, “After everything that happened. But, I read about you in a Freddie Lounds article,” Molly said. 

“Tsk, tsk,”

“I read that your body,” she corrected herself, “bodies… were missing. I thought you were dead,”

Hannibal considered that.

“Did you feel safe, coming here? Have you felt free to enjoy yourself without looking over your shoulder?”

She was silent. 

“How is your son?” he added.

Hannibal watched her cringe. Her carefully arranged guise of composure began to shift into something much harder. She stared out into the crowded street, past Hannibal’s imminent frame, a statue among men. What would yelling for help do? What good would running be?

Quietly, she came back to herself and met Hannibal’s stare.

“After I heard what had happened, I didn’t think I was in any danger. I felt… safe, somehow,”

Hannibal sensed that she had never verbalized these thoughts before, and perhaps even regretted sharing them.

“Your subconscious felt a sense of relief upon hearing of your husband’s alleged death. You blamed him for your pain. A cruel discovery, indeed,”

Molly shook her head brazenly. _No, no. It’s you._ Her eyes betrayed her. _You are the one to blame for this._

“I’m sure you believe that,” she said instead.

They were interrupted briefly as a woman with a small child made her way between them, uttering a polite “perdóname” as she brushed through. Molly anxiously watched them go by. Hannibal eyed her knowingly.

“You seem distracted,” Hannibal said, “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“Yes, actually,” Molly said, eyes still following the family down the street. “I would say it was good talking to you, but we both know that’s not true,”

Hannibal smiled at her boldness, feeling oddly fond of her despite himself.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you,”

Hannibal turned to leave but was stopped by a firm touch to his forearm. 

“Dr. Lecter,” Molly said.

He moved to look down at her hand. She quickly removed it, suddenly scared of having said his name out in the open.

“Is he happy?” Molly asked.

Hannibal looked at her and saw a tenderness in her eyes he could not name. For the first time in their conversation she appeared small.

“Yes,” he said simply. It was the truth. 

“And should I tell him you are the same, Molly?”

He said her name to taunt her. Having been given the chance to use it to her face, he took the opportunity with spite.

“I think it’s best if… we don’t mention our meeting to anyone. Will included,”

She spoke Will’s name slowly, as if attempting to snuff out a pesky light before bed. Hannibal couldn’t hide a small smile at that. Will’s name on her lips sounded forbidden, like she had forgotten how to pronounce the word. _Will._ It belonged to Hannibal now. He could sing it with ease; he always could.

“Yes,” he said finally, “I think you’re right,”

Hannibal walked back home in somewhat of a daze. It didn’t necessarily bother him that Molly knew where they were— of course she could alert the authorities, call Jack and be done with it. But she would be welcoming a daily supply of paranoia into her life should something go wrong. No, Hannibal wasn’t concerned about someone finding them but rather about who found them. It had to be Molly. Hannibal suspected they had both grown accustomed to forgetting the other existed, or at least tried their best to. Life was much more comfortable when you believed your husband’s lover was dead.

Once home, Hannibal found Will reading on the couch, glass of whiskey by his side. Hannibal put his bags down on the counter and walked over to him.

“I made reservations tonight at the Café del Mar. Eight o’clock. I’ve heard they make excellent cocktails. Care to join me?”

“Do I have a choice?” Will asked meeting Hannibal’s eyes for a brief moment.

“You always have a choice, Will. In this case, I strongly urge you to dine with me tonight,”

Will chuckled in spite of himself, “Yeah, okay. I’ll mark my calendar,”

Hannibal lingered a moment, watching the way Will’s eyes flicked back and forth across the page. What a beautiful thing. And to think Molly might have witnessed this same act, the same exquisite gesture of Will’s hand taking the page with one finger and folding it over to the next. Hannibal blinked the jealous thought away and started to prepare lunch. 

~~~

That night, the two of them walked the long stretch of rural gardens and woods that surrounded their home to downtown Havana. The night was alive with colorful stringed lights, music blared from apartment windows, and the prominent scent of alcohol hanging in the muggy air. They had no plan, just motive. Motive to move, to live, to see.

They arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes before the scheduled reservation. Hannibal hailed the host as he walked by with a tray of tall drinks.

“Perdón, two for Matthias. On the patio, if you could”

“Sí. Por aquí, señor,”

They were seated at a small round table in the paved courtyard behind the building. A live band was playing and couples brushed against each other happily. Will couldn’t help but feel amused at all the action, despite his preference for a nice meal at home.

Hannibal ordered them each a Cuba Libre to be festive and capitalize on the irony. After that, they ordered daiquiris. Predictably, their meals were not as delicious nor as refined as Hannibal’s would have been, but that didn’t seem to be the point tonight. 

A large, boisterous crowd all dressed in their finest clothes raised a toast to their newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. de Fuentes. The party offered a small glass of red wine to every person on the patio to help them celebrate. The wine wasn’t great, but Will downed it in all but two gulps.

Soon enough, Will was beginning to see the thrill of dining out in public while they were supposed to be in hiding. Acknowledging this exhilarated him. Will could feel his body slowly relaxing, settling into a comfortably drunken torpor.

“You know,” Will said as he leaned closer to Hannibal over the noise, feeling less inhibited now, “Whenever I drink I feel it in the bottom of my feet. Like I’m wearing winged shoes,”

Hannibal smiled, “And will you soon be dancing in the sky delivering good news to the gods?”

“I just might,” he laughed.

The happy couple declared another toast and provided the crowd with another round of drinks. Hannibal and Will didn’t want to be rude, of course, and again accepted the offer.

Soon their bellies were full of rich, sinewy wine. It stained Will’s lips blood red. He sucked at them, hungry for it, tasting the potent liquid there. When he looked up from his glass he saw Hannibal watching him intently, eyes flickering across the span of his mouth. Will licked them again to taunt him— he felt just drunk enough to ignore explanation.

The band wound down the festive music and began playing a slow, pleasant song. The married couple made their way to the floor and swayed in each other’s arms. Will didn’t realize how intently he was watching them until Hannibal was in front of him, offering a hand.

“Care to dance, Will?” he asked.

And so they did.

Will was apprehensive at first, stiff in his movements. It had been so long since he danced with another person. He and Molly rarely did, not even at their wedding. He felt it was a silly gesture and largely disproved of the act. But here… here was different. His head spun with every slow turn, eyes instinctively watching his feet.

Hannibal grabbed Will’s right hand in his and placed the other on Will’s waist. Will clutched at Hannibal’s shoulder without thought. Everything seemed to fit. He didn’t dare look at Hannibal’s eyes, although he knew he was watching him closely.

The first song ended and another one began, sultry and sweet. Their bodies pressed firmly into one another and moved along with the languid music. Will felt the exact moment his body gave in to sheer desire and allowed itself to live in this moment, right here. Hannibal pulled tighter on Will’s shirt and nosed into his mess of curls. 

Will closed his eyes— he felt as if he were floating, the ground beneath him dissipating into nothing but open air. He vaguely grew aware of his own arousal after noticing the undeniably stark pressure brushing against his thighs, matching Hannibal’s own. This was new territory for him— he had often imagined what he and Hannibal must look like in public. He was fully aware that two middle-aged men roaming the streets dressed in brand name attire might spark unwarranted attention. But he foolishly hadn’t imagined those implications would start affecting him so explicitly.

Will lifted his gaze to meet Hannibal’s and lingered there, nose to nose, sharing the same heated breath. Will amazed himself when he suddenly ground forward into Hannibal’s groin, wanting more contact. Hannibal let his free hand fall to Will’s waist to hold him there. 

Will felt too much at once and let his head fall backward, exposing his neck. Hannibal took the offer and mouthed lazily along Will’s throat, stopping to feel the quick pulse beneath his tongue. Hannibal’s mouth found its way to Will’s ear and whispered, low and hungry, “What will come of us?”

The night gradually waned in a similar fashion— the sort of night that slips wordlessly into morning, one that makes the trees bend low with its breezes and obscures the necessity of sleep. Soon, though, fatigue caught up with them and they made the long trek home, hands brushing every few steps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal decides to tell Will about meeting Molly at the market. It goes about as well as you would expect. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Hannibal smiled in the dark. “How did we get here? I seem to have forgotten,” he said._
> 
> _Will thought for a moment. He saw flashes of blood and forgiveness, of patience and of clarity._
> 
> _“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” he whispered._

Hannibal stumbled up the short flight of steps and peeked around the corner into Will’s bedroom. Will was sitting on the edge of his bed seemingly lost in thought, mouth hanging open in a silent “oh.”

Hannibal cleared his throat and stepped into the room, somewhat cautiously. He knew he had to tell Will about seeing Molly. Bringing up the past was still somewhat of a sore topic, only bearable when spoken at the water’s edge. Hannibal felt that even with the alcohol surging through their bodies, talking of Molly would not fare terribly well.

He wondered how Will would react— would mentioning the life they left behind open the door for an easier return? Might Will remember what he lost?

Will quietly awoke from his trance and looked up at Hannibal, meeting him square in the eyes. He looked as if he were studying something, intent on memorizing every detail, every corner of this memory. His mind repeated an invisible mantra of _here, now, this carpet, that mouth._ Hannibal broke the spell and sat down next to Will on the edge of the bed.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Will readjusted and leaned back against the wooden headboard, eyes closed. He let his head roll to one side, carefree, and smiled.

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” Will said.

“We did drink quite a bit. I’m surprised we found our way home in the dark,”

Will chuckled, remembering the feeling of his hands firmly grasping Hannibal’s shoulders, clutching for balance. His feet felt like clay.

“Yeah, I guess we did. But it’s more than that. More than just the alcohol, I mean. I feel… happy. I forgot what that felt like,”

He was quiet for so long that Hannibal thought he had fallen asleep. Suddenly, Will leaned forward and put his head on Hannibal’s shoulder.

Hannibal stopped breathing for a second then placed his hand on the back of Will’s neck. His fingers tugged softly at the small hairs there, pulling the tight curls so they stretched out flat, then releasing. He could smell the wine on Will’s breath and it dizzied him.

“Will,” he whispered.

“Mmm?”

“I have to tell you something,”

“All right,”

Hannibal put his hand on top of Will’s thigh, over the comforter. He turned his head so his mouth was just touching Will’s temple. Will could feel the small brush of Hannibal’s stubble against his skin, his breath warm and comforting.

“I saw Molly today,”

Will sat up instantly, no longer relaxed, “What?”

“At the market. She was alone. We did not talk long,” Hannibal’s gaze settled somewhere on the floor.

“Wait, stop— do you hear yourself?”

Hannibal could feel Will’s body tense beneath the covers, seizing as if he wished to get up from the bed and start pacing the length of the room. But he stayed put under the soft pressure of Hannibal’s hand.

“And why are you telling me this now? How did it not come up earlier?”

Hannibal kept quiet and thought. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m sorry doesn’t quite cut it, Hannibal,”

“I know,”

Will stared at him impatiently, brow furrowed. 

“Well?”

“What would you like to know?” Hannibal asked.

“Are you planning to kill her?”

“I imagine she’s already gone,”

“That doesn’t answer my question,”

“You do not wish for me to kill her. I’d like to,” he admitted, “But I won’t. You have my word,”

He was trying to be as earnest as possible, which in all honesty is a little difficult when you’re slightly drunk and don’t really believe what you’re promising.

Will sat back again and rubbed his hands across his face, then up through his hair.

“I want to believe you,” he said quietly, still angry. “I need to know she’s safe, an-and gone. I want her to be as far away from us as possible,”

“I can’t give you that. There’s no way of knowing for certain what she’ll do or where she’ll be,”

“Well do me a favor and stay away from her,” Will snapped. He stumbled out from under Hannibal’s touch and walked out of the room.

Hannibal was left in the dim silence, hand resting on the soft spot Will had kept warm. What was he to think? Could Will still love Molly? And if so, why not say it? Hannibal felt it best to leave Will to his own careful meditations. Best not to poke the lion.

Hannibal crossed the hall to his room and laid down. It felt like the first time that day he’d taken his feet off the floor. A faint glow shone into Hannibal’s room from the crack of the door. Will was still awake, perhaps for the entire night. Hannibal shut his eyes, tossing away the image of Molly across the busy market street, ignoring the nagging thoughts that lie within him. In its place, he imagined his arms around Will again, leaving no space between them, lips to his neck.

In the living room, Will plopped down on the couch and tried to cry. It felt pathetic, but he was sure it was all he needed. To momentarily touch that hollow place in the pit of him, to soothe the howling thing that lie inside. Feel it, but be careful not to let it devour you. 

Life with Molly felt so far away— yes, it was as if it were another man entirely who had been married, who fathered a child, whose tireless endeavors to fill the void Hannibal left ultimately collapsed under the pressures of domestic life. It wasn’t in this lifetime. That life existed somewhere else in him, like a poem or a song once memorized because it reminded you of a better time— and now, to discover you have forgotten it. A white noise fills the space it once occupied. 

Admittedly, Will still felt a bit dizzy from the walk home. From remembering the intensity of being so close to Hannibal, the heat of two bodies pressed together. It felt like a dream. How long had he been sleeping? Will poured himself two fingers of whiskey, grabbed a throw blanket, curled back onto the couch, and let the night take him.

~~~

The next morning, Hannibal found Will asleep on the sofa— one arm hanging off the edge, the other on his stomach just above his scar. Hannibal allowed himself to indulge at the sight. He felt no guilt over speaking to Molly or telling Will about the encounter, but dealing with the aftermath was not to be enjoyed. If the abrupt ending to an otherwise perfect night said anything about how Will was dealing, Hannibal felt it best to leave Will be until he calmed down.

What to do with the day? It was unusually cold for the season which might affect the plans of nosy tourists, but didn’t stop the locals from going about their business as usual. Hannibal felt that a nice brisk walk to the water would clear his mind and allow Will time to mull over what he needs to. 

Hannibal made two cups of coffee— one with cream and sugar, one black— and sat down at the small kitchen table in view of Will. Upon noticing the empty whiskey glass on the end table, Hannibal suspected a nice morning walk would do Will some good, too.

He walked over to Will and placed one hand, warmed from the coffee mug, on his shoulder. 

“Will,”

Nothing. Hannibal briefly considered waking him the same way he had the morning before, using one hand to muffle Will’s airway and wait for the stifled breaths, but thought better of it. Instead, he brought his hand to Will’s bearded cheek, tracing the thin scar with delicate attention. Will let out a heavy sigh and opened his eyes, immediately aware of Hannibal’s close presence.

“You’re awake,” Hannibal said.

“I am now,” Will’s voice was rough from sleep.

Hannibal smiled at that. A good way start to the day.

“It’s rather chilly this morning, but I feel a walk to the water’s edge would do us both some good,”

By now, mentioning a walk to the water was synonymous with “I feel like we ought to take some time to talk about something neither of us really want to.” However groggy he was, Will didn’t argue.

This morning was particularly chilly. A light fog rippled atop the water like smoke. Will pretended not to notice the way Hannibal shuddered at the cool gusts of ocean breeze. He was wearing a fitted windbreaker but it didn’t do much good, more for looks than practicality.

“Are you warm enough?” Will asked. Will was dressed appropriately in a dark quilted jacket buttoned to his neck.

“I should be fine, thank you,” Hannibal said, but he was shivering.

Slowly, they reached the end of the concrete boardwalk and leaned forward against the barrier in silence as had become habit.

“Can you smell the water?” Will asked, focused on something far from him.

Hannibal raised his head and inhaled— “Yes.”

It was a musty perfume, one that tickled his nostrils like a pink champagne. The waves licked up at the pier’s walls, discoloring them for a quick moment before collapsing again into the pale water.

“Listen, Hannibal,” Will spoke quietly, “About the other night…”

“There’s no need for an explanation,”

“I feel like there is, and you need to hear it,” 

He took a steady breath and let it out slowly, watching it stretch forward onto the surface of the smoky water. 

“I wasn’t exactly... right last night. Knowing Molly is here scared me more than I imagined. I know I can’t protect her—” he let out a small laugh, “I know she doesn’t want me to protect her. She’s better off without me in her life completely,”

“But you still care for her,”

“I care about her, yes. But what we had together… it wasn’t fair to her. I made a promise to her that I couldn’t keep. And that’s difficult to live with,”

“More difficult than running off with the man who tried to have her killed?”

Will eyed him sternly, but remained calm.

“It’s all intertwined. When we fell from the cliff I knew there was no going back. There was no other choice for me, for either of us. It took me a while to fully see that, but the truth of it is inescapable. It stings. Where we are now, who we are together… this is the life I chose, Hannibal. I chose you. I’ll always choose you. You have to know that,”

Will reached over and rested his hand on top of Hannibal’s. The sincerity of the act was striking— Hannibal could feel every pulse vibrate through his body. He turned his left hand palm up and clasped Will’s. They stood together like that until the fog cleared and the light from the sun warmed the surface of the water. 

~~~

They spent the rest of the day in the safety of their little home, cleaning the floors and dusting shelves. They knew without saying that they’d have to start thinking about leaving here. Even if Molly did stay quiet, it wasn’t safe to assume they could maintain their established anonymity.

Before long the light streaming in from the windows evolved from an intense yellow to a muted purpley-grey. Hannibal started dinner and the house soon came alive with the smells of sauteed onions, garlic, chicken and herbs. Hannibal plated their meals and poured them each a glass of light red wine.

“Hungry?” Hannibal asked.

“Smells delicious, thank you,” Will said.

They sat down across from each other and savored the way the wine mingled with the rich flavors. A simple, delicate thing. The pleasure of a meal eaten in silence. No one could stop them.

After dinner Will helped Hannibal clear the table and wash the dishes. He watched how his hands dipped into the warm, soapy water and came out sleek and wet. Will remembered how those hands held tight to his waist while dancing, how secure he felt beneath them. He was struck by the veins at the back of Hannibal's hands, how they cast a multitude of shadows, creating dips and curves— he considered the desire to take them into his mouth, run his tongue over every small bone there. 

“Lost in thought?” Hannibal asked.

Will must have been staring. Too late to play it cool, might as well be transparent about it.

“Bedelia once asked me if I ached for you. I didn’t know what she meant. It was like she was speaking to me in another language,” Will said.

“I imagine the question came as quite a shock, given our history,”

Will dried the last plate and set it down on the counter. He turned to face Hannibal, eyes locked to his.

“She told me you were in love with me. I didn’t want to believe her. I think hearing it from her angered me the most,”

“You would have prefered me to tell you to your face?”

Will thought. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t have clicked either way,”

“And why are these thoughts grasping your attention now?”

“You know why,” Will said.

Hannibal faced the sink again and dried off his hands with the small towel. “Love is a reassurance because it is undeniably sure of itself. Love doesn’t ask questions,” he said.

 _Unlike you._ Will heard the silent rebuttal, but made no response.

“It’s getting late,” Hannibal said with a sigh, “I think I’ll run myself a bath and get some sleep. You should, too,”

For a split second Will imagined himself in the bath with Hannibal, what that must feel like, so warm and close. He brushed the thought away and nodded, feeling tired himself.

Will sat in the dark of his bedroom and listened to the light sloshing coming from the bathroom next door. When he closed his eyes he swore he could smell the lavender, feel the warm suds between his toes.

When he saw the light go out from under the door, he knew Hannibal had returned to his bedroom for the night. Will twiddled his thumbs in the dark, feeling restless, all the tiredness suddenly gone. He felt around his left hand, finding the small indent from where his ring used to be. He realized he didn’t even remember taking it off. Was it a year ago? Did it get lost in the ocean? Despite wanting to feel remorse over its disappearance, the attachment just wouldn't surface. He realized he no longer felt obligated to keep that bond, and it felt okay. 

Will sat up and gave himself one last chance to talk himself out of his next decision. 

He swept the covers off and crossed the hallway to Hannibal’s room. He put his ear to the door and heard nothing. Slowly, Will pushed it open, pausing in the doorway. Maybe Hannibal was asleep after all. Maybe he should go back to bed.

“Will, come here,” Hannibal’s voice was like a beacon in the dark.

Will crossed the room without thinking, sliding into bed alongside Hannibal. They turned to face each other, inches apart.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Hannibal asked.

“Didn’t even try,” Will admitted with a chuckle.

Hannibal smiled in the dark. “How did we get here? I seem to have forgotten,” he said.

Will thought for a moment. He saw flashes of blood and forgiveness, of patience and of clarity.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” he whispered.

Hannibal was silent. When Will moved to kiss the corner of his mouth, his heart stopped. Will lingered for a moment, lips hovering over Hannibal’s. He was about to retreat when Hannibal took his face in his hands and kissed him in earnest, slotting their mouths together in a dizzying rhythm.

After what felt like an eternity, they broke the kiss to get needed air. Will rested his forehead against Hannibal’s, trying to slow his breath. He shifted his left leg between Hannibal’s thighs in an attempt to close the remaining space between them. Hannibal wrapped his arm around him, hand falling to the nape of Will’s neck. His skin was hot to the touch.

“I take it this means you're sleeping in my bed tonight,” Hannibal said.

Will smiled and burrowed himself into the hollow of Hannibal’s neck, breathing in the calming scent of soap and lavender.

“If we could just stay like this…” Will said to his skin.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” 

Will looked up at him, the tip of his nose meeting Hannibal’s chin. “But we do, sooner rather than later,”

“Nothing has been preordained. If we wish to live out our lives here, so be it,”

“You wouldn’t get bored?” Will asked.

“You’ve never bored me, Will,”

Will considered that for a moment. What would that life look like? Walking the hot summer paths with Hannibal’s hand in his, eating the Cuban cuisine, late night dancing in the living room. It wouldn’t be difficult.

“No,” Will said, “You said you wanted to show me Florence. Probably not the safest place for us to be right now, but maybe someplace else. I never really got the chance to travel when I was a kid, but I’d like to now,”

“If I could, I’d like to show you the whole world, Will. To share this life by your side is all I could ask for,”

Will smiled in spite of himself, “Are you flirting with me, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal moved suddenly and positioned himself on top of Will, both hands cradling his face. Will laid his arms flat on the pillow on either side of his head.

“That depends. Are you receptive to such flirtations?”

Will lifted his chin to meet Hannibal’s lips in a deep kiss, making his way into Hannibal’s mouth with clumsy impatience.

Hannibal smiled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”


End file.
